


you can never go home

by 49percentchanceofbees



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Children, Children of Characters, Drabble, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Gen, Nonbinary Hawke (Dragon Age), Other, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 13:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/49percentchanceofbees
Summary: Ten years after leaving Kirkwall, Anders shows up at Hawke's door in the middle of the night.





	you can never go home

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head for a while; got bored on a road trip and decided to finally write it.
> 
> Not really leading into any plot or anything; I never did decide what exactly Anders was trying to tell Hawke. Just a snapshot of how I imagine the Hawke Estate might look down the line, assuming Thedas doesn't explode (again) in DA4.

Ten years since Anders had left Kirkwall, and Hawke still hadn't changed the lock on their front door. Part of him wanted to take that as a sign that he was still welcome, though he knew Hawke had hardly been waiting for him to crawl back. He hadn't thought he'd ever be back here, either.

Other things hadn't changed either: as the door swung closed behind Anders, the foyer filled with a chorus of growls and snarls, as if he'd walked in on the Dalish Dread Wolf. (An odd comparison to leap to mind, but being back in Kirkwall made him think of evenings by the fire swapping stories, Merrill's soft voice falling easily into the cadence of her people's legends.) Anders put a hand out, cautiously. "Shh, shhh, it's me, you know me. You remember me, right, Jay?"

Except the dog wasn't Jay, Anders realized, heart dropping to his boots. He should've anticipated that: mabari didn't live that long. But he'd assumed everything in Kirkwall would be just as he'd left it. He hadn't brought a backup for the key either.

Jay's successor kept snarling, and Anders snatched his hand back as the dog snapped at it. "All right, well, you don't know me, but listen: I'm a friend, I don't mean any harm ..."

 _I'm trying to reason with a dog_. Hawke had always said mabari were smart enough to understand speech, but this was ridiculous. Anders reached for his magic, planning to put the creature to sleep; it let out two sharp barks, loud enough to make Anders wince. An answering crash came from the top of the stairs; Anders heard bare feet slap against the floor, and then Fenris vaulted over the balcony, glowing, half-naked, and holding an unsheathed sword.

"Andraste's ass," Anders muttered. _So he's just as jumpy and melodramatic as ever._ And he and Hawke were still together. Shit. It was far, far too late for jealousy, or even for friendly concern over the wisdom of their relationship, but ... Well, Fenris was not high on the list of people Anders would've liked to notify of his return to Kirkwall. Or ever see again.

But apparently he had mellowed a bit with age; the old Fenris would have stabbed first and asked questions later, but now he just leveled his sword at Anders. "You have one chance to tell me what you're doing in my house."

"I didn't realize this was _your_ house." Where was Hawke? It'd be just Anders' luck to show up with only Fenris home.

"Anders." Fenris must've recognized his voice. The sword didn't lower, and the lyrium-glow didn't fade from the elf's body.

"Fenris." The old hate in Anders' voice surprised even him. He'd thought himself past all that. "Where's Hawke? Or did you steal this place too?"

Fenris glanced at the dog. "Go get Hawke. And stay with Lea."

"Who's Lea?" Anders asked, as the animal padded away. Fenris ignored the question, of course. This created an awkward silence, and Anders couldn't resist the urge to fill it. "So, it's been a while. How have you been? What have you been up to?"

"Destroy any Chantries lately?" Fenris responded, in exactly the same light tone Anders had used.

All right, he'd practically begged for that one. "No, astonishingly. Decided that wasn't an auspicious career path."

"Fenris?" Hawke arrived, white nightshirt ghostly in Fenris' glow, axe sizzling with a lightning rune. Even in the dark, the sight of them -- the sound of their voice -- rendered Anders unable to speak for a moment. He'd _missed_ them, and he'd thought he was over that too. "Who's our guest?"

Of course they hadn't recognized him, between the darkness and the care he'd taken to alter his appearance over the years. Anders fumbled for something to say, for the perfect quip with which to announce his return. But then he saw Fenris about to open his mouth and answer for him, so he had to make do with, "Hi, Hawke."

It was too dark for Anders to make out Hawke's expression, but he could see them go pale in his mind's eye, hear it in their voice. "Anders? Maker's fucking pit hair, Anders, what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you. Preferably not on your doorstep. I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but please, Hawke ... can I come in?"

*

Less than five minutes later Anders stood in Hawke's kitchen. Across the kitchen table, Fenris leaned back against a counter and watched him warily. He hadn't taken his eyes off Anders the entire time, and the sword lay on the counter beside him, in easy reach, as if he honestly expected Anders to attack at any moment. At least he'd finally shut down the lyrium in his body, becoming a man rather than a spectre.

Hawke was making coffee. Hawke made terrible coffee, a brown sludge that they swore up and down was the toast of the Fereldan army -- a claim supported by the fact that only they and Aveline, former soldiers, could stomach it. Looking at the scars on Hawke's hands, Anders wondered if they still suffered the nightmares and insomnia that had plagued them before. Certainly they didn't seem to need the coffee to wake them up, though everyone had always kept irregular sleep schedules, Kirkwall's nightlife being what it was.

Neither Hawke nor Fenris had bothered to dress, which made Anders, in his heavy traveling clothes, feel even more out of place. Not that either of them were indecent, mind, or that Anders was unfamiliar with their bodies, having stitched both back together on multiple occasions, but Fenris in particular had always been more buttoned-up than this. Maybe he just didn't want to let Anders wander the house unsupervised.

"What are you doing here, Anders?" Hawke said suddenly, still facing the stove. "If you need help hiding -- "

"No," Anders said quickly. "It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?" Hawke turned to look at him. "You can't just come back like this! We had Cassandra Pentaghast sleeping in our guest room last week!"

Anders winced: yes, running into the closest thing Thedas still had to a head templar would've been a bit more than awkward. He wondered how she and Hawke had become friends.

"I do need your help," he began, and then, reading the contempt in the slight narrowing of Fenris' eyes, added, "But not for me! I found something. Something bad."

"Wait," Fenris said. He stalked to the door quiet as a cat and opened it quickly, and into the room fell a child: a girl of six or so, dark-haired, in a white nightshirt, looking up at them all with big green eyes. Anders stared as if he'd never seen a child before in his life.

"Lea!" Hawke said, admonishing. "What did I tell you about eavesdropping?"

"It is clever and often profitable." The child pronounced the words with almost humorous precision. "That's what Aunt Isabela said last year, anyway."

"We're going to have to have a talk about picking up habits from your aunt Isabela," Fenris said. He glanced into the shadows outside the door. "You too."

The dog slunk guiltily into the kitchen and flopped down at the girl's feet with a sigh.

"I was worried. I wanted to know why Dane got everyone up." The child peered at Anders. "Are you really Anders, like my parents told me about?"

"And what did your parents say about me?" Anders asked, wondering if he'd regret asking.

"Mama said you hurt a lot of people," the girl said matter-of-factly. "Papa said you were a abomination." She wrinkled her nose. "You don't look like an abomination. They're ugly."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Anders cleared his throat. Usually he was good with kids. "It's all right ... Lea. Everything's fine. I just need to talk to your parents."

 _Lea_. Short for Leandra, presumably. Anders wondered if Hawke saw their dead mother every time they looked at their daughter. No: they wouldn't've chosen the name if it brought back bad memories.

"I'd like to talk," Lea said hopefully.

"You always want to talk," Hawke retorted. "You'll have to do so in the morning. It's far past your bedtime. Growing girls need their sleep."

Lea considered this for a moment. "I could maybe give up an inch or two and stay up?"

Fenris took the girl's hand. "Come on. I'll read to you."

 _And make sure she actually stays in bed, I'm guessing._ Her eyes lit up at this offer, and there was something soft in Fenris' face and voice that Anders had never seen before, as he spoke to his daughter. His _daughter_.

The kitchen was quiet for a while after they left, the dog trailing after them. Hawke's coffee finished brewing.

"So," Anders said at last, his voice far too loud. "You have kids."

"One kid," Hawke corrected. "Not that I haven't thought about more."

"I didn't expect that." Anders realized even as the words were out of his mouth how stupid they were. Why shoudn't Hawke and Fenris have a kid? They were healthy adults with a beautiful home, and they'd been here, getting on with their lives while he'd wandered around Thedas hiding from the consequences of his actions. "She seems smart."

"Sharp as a blade. I can barely keep up with her," Hawke admitted. "She'll run this city by the time she's ten, just you watch."

"I wish," Anders said: he wouldn't be watching Lea do anything. He'd also ruined the mood with that reminder. They stood in silence for a moment, Hawke drinking their coffee. At least they seemed to enjoy it.

"Are you all right, Anders?" Hawke asked eventually.

The question took him by surprise, and it took him a long time to answer. It felt as if they were still friends. Maybe they were; Anders didn't plan to ask. "I, well, I'm as well as can be expected. Can't complain, right?"

"You can always complain," Hawke said ruefully. Their tone kept it from being an insult. They took a long sip of coffee. "Honestly, I figured you were dead."

 _Figured or hoped? That would've been easier for everyone, wouldn't it?_ "I had some close calls."

"Do you regret it?" Hawke finished the coffee and poured another cup. "What you did?"

He didn't have to ask what they meant.

"I ... don't know. I try not to think about it." Not very successfully. That red pillar still haunted his dreams. "I can't change it, after all."

The door opened: Fenris was back. Anders mentally kicked himself: he should've told Hawke his news and left before the blasted elf returned.

"As fun as this has been, I didn't come here to catch up." Anders straightened. "I was in Tevinter -- "

"Of course," Fenris said, his tone saying, _That's where evil mages belong._ Hawke put an arm around his waist, eyes concerned, and Anders felt an old annoyance rise. _He's an ass and you comfort_ him _. Some things never change._

"Anyway, it all started with this cult, of course ... "


End file.
